


At point blank range

by pearl_o



Series: Push/Pull [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"What could you make me do, I wonder," Erik muses out loud.</i> Erik pushes; Charles pulls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At point blank range

**Author's Note:**

> So much thanks to oliviacirce for her helpful beta.

The chessboard has been put away, and their conversation tapered off into a companionable silence some minutes before. Odd, this feeling: not the peace or serenity Charles has mentioned, but perhaps something akin to it.

His thoughts are drifting off into odd places tonight. Erik takes a sip of his drink and says, "How old were you when you learned you could control people? That your thoughts could guide their actions."

Charles raises an eyebrow at him, registering surprise at the unexpectedness of the question; Erik waits a moment for him to answer. "Older than I should've been," Charles says, with a frankness, almost cheerful. "When I was young, I thought I was just very persuasive. And rather extraordinary lucky."

Erik chuckles, and Charles lowers his head in recognition of Erik's thought. "Yes, I know; I _am_ extraordinarily lucky."

He says it so casually. As if it is not something he has ever bothered to consider before.

Erik thinks, with something like amazement: Charles has never been alone, never been helpless in the dark. Small wonder he is always so sure. Small wonder he never doubts.

If Erik never falters, it is because he cannot - it is because he _does_ know what it is like to be at the mercy of the universe, and to find that mercy lacking.

Charles could do anything, and that should put Erik on his guard. Charles is more powerful than he is. It is the first time in many years that Erik has been in a room with another person and not constantly had the strategy in the back of his mind of how he could take them out before they had a chance to do anything to him.

Trust isn't a luxury Erik has ever been able to afford, but Charles - lucky, lucky Charles - is a philanthropist. He shares his riches. For the first time, Erik can see partnership as an asset rather than a potential point of weakness. They're stronger together than they would be apart.

God help him, he very nearly finds it charming that Charles takes it for granted.

"What could you make me do, I wonder," Erik muses out loud. Charles gives him a sharp, worried look.

"I would never," Charles says, his voice deepening with the force of his sincerity. He matches Erik's gaze, and Erik can tell the exact moment when Charles perceives the turn his thoughts have taken.

"Erik," says Charles, "no. I wouldn't... You don't want-"

"Ah. So you'll convince me of what it is I want, then?" Erik says lightly. He shakes his glass a little, listening to the faint tinkle of the ice.

Charles is frowning. "This isn't something to joke about." He stands up, turning his back Erik as he refills his drink.

"What on earth makes you think I am joking?" Erik spreads his legs farther apart, sitting back in the chair. There's a pleasant sense of heat and anticipation rising up low in his belly.

Charles says nothing, standing perfectly still. Erik observes the stiffness of his shoulders.

"What are you so afraid of, Charles?"

"I've told you before," Charles says. "I don't have it in me to hurt you."

"I'm not asking you to _hurt_ me," Erik says dismissively. He puts his drink down on the end table and raises himself out of the armchair, walks to stand behind Charles. He places his hand on Charles's shoulder and continues, more softly: "Show me what you're capable of, Charles. I think it's more than you know."

Charles turns around slowly. His eyes are dark, his brow furrowed in concentration. Erik can feel the already familiar sensation of Charles's mind within his own. "This is something you _want_."

"Yes," Erik says simply.

Charles swallows. Erik waits.

"Kiss me," Charles says, as his eyes flit down to stare at Erik's mouth.

Erik can feel the want in Charles's voice, but nothing more. He smiles and takes a step back, spreads his arms. "Make me, friend."

Charles's mind unfols tendrils of thoughts invading Erik's consciousness. God, the power Charles has; it truly is amazing.

"Kiss me," Charles says again, more forcefully, and this time Erik can hear it in his mind, as if it is one of his own thoughts, _kiss Charles_ , an almost unbearable urge. Almost, but not quite.

"Again."

" _Erik_ ," Charles says, his voice almost breaking, and he is the one that takes a step forward.

There is nothing Erik can do but kiss him, there is no other choice, nothing but Charles's will. He can't stop touching Charles, his hands tight on Charles's hips. He kisses Charles until Charles is out of breath, and then he sucks and nibbles at Charles's neck, until Charles moans, low and sweet. He can't speak, but he thinks _more, Charles, do more_ and that makes Charles moan louder.

 _On - on your knees_.

If there's a second of hesitation in Charles, it's not enough to dilute his control. Erik follows, immediately. He wants to press his face against Charles's crotch, to unbutton his trousers and take his cock in hand, but he waits for Charles to force him. It'll be sweeter that way.

He's astonished by how aroused he is already from this experiment.

Charles lays his hand in Erik's hair, and the slightest pressure of his hand guides Erik's gaze away from the bulge of Charles's hard cock (oh, how aroused Charles is by this as well, finally letting himself stretch out to his full potential) and up to Charles's face.

Charles is breathing shallowly. His wide eyes are an almost unreal shade of blue, his teeth worrying at his lower lip. "Erik," he says again.

Erik smiles up at him, and he feels happy in a way he can't quite explain. "Charles. You would like to see me service you like this, wouldn't you?"

Charles closes his eyes. Erik thinks he might be near tears.

"Go ahead," Erik whispers. He closes his eyes as well, and turns his head into Charles's hand like a caress. "Do it, Charles. I want you to."

The sensation of Charles's mind in his own is overwhelming. It's everywhere, with nowhere for Erik to hide any part. It feels almost like a drug, intensifying every feeling until he feels like he could almost break in two. The anticipation is breathtaking as he waits for the command to suck Charles's cock.

And then - so suddenly - he is alone in his mind again, and Charles's warm hand is gone from his hair.

Erik opens his eyes again and sees Charles, backed away, his hands covering his face.

"I can't," Charles says raggedly. "Forgive me, but I cannot."

Erik raises himself to his feet, forcing himself to breath slowly and deeply. He walks to the table and picks up his drink and downs it with steady swallows before setting the glass back on the table with a heavy thud.

 _Come to bed with me_. The telepathic message is a featherlight touch. It's a request; a plea.

 _No_ , Erik thinks. "Not tonight," he says, and he leaves the room without looking back.

Charles does not stop him.


End file.
